


A Messy Migraine

by Graymalkin



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Desperation, F/M, Soiling, messing, poop desperation, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 03:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16824205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graymalkin/pseuds/Graymalkin
Summary: A mature college student feels like a helpless child when she gets a bad migraine.





	A Messy Migraine

This shouldn't happen to me. I'm 19. I go to a university. I interviewed for a job just a few hours before the incident. I felt like such an adult then. I was confident and serious and knew just what to say. I remember checking myself out in the mirror before I went. I looked elegant and sophisticated in my skirt-suit with my hair in a bun.

Things went downhill when I went home for the weekend. I was hoping to spend time with my boyfriend and bring some of my stuff back to my dorm. My mom gave me a ride. I felt a migraine coming on while I waited for her, and it got steadily worse during the hour we spent on the road. I texted Jeremy from the car to cancel our dinner. It was heartbreaking, since it was the anniversary of our first date, but I was in no condition to function in public. 

By the time I got home, I couldn't even function in private. Every light was blinding and everything else was blurry. It felt like I spent hours rummaging through the medicine cabinet. I finally wound with some Advil in my hand. I put my lips under the tap because I couldn't even manage holding a cup. I dropped a couple tablets down the sink, but I felt 4 or 5 go down when I swallowed.

I thought I'd feel better when my professional yet uncomfortable clothes were off. That was a real chore. I had to either work in the dark or face a million rays of light stabbing my brain. Each button was an ordeal. I fumbled with my bra for so long you'd think I was wearing one for the first time. 

I wanted to put my clothes away neatly like an adult, but I couldn't manage. I was yelling in frustration when Mom came in. I felt silly standing there in just my panties and stockings trying and failing to hang up a suit.

Mom took care of it for me. She put me to bed and turned off every last light upstairs. That's the same bedroom I had all through childhood, and now I was back in the role of a child. It was chilly, so I looked for something to put on that wouldn't take much effort. All my current clothes were packed, so I pawed through the things I left behind in my dresser. There were pyjamas left over from my girly pink phase in 11th grade. They fit and I wasn't in a picky mood.

The pain in my head only dropped by 10 or maybe 20 percent. To make things worse, my stomach started hurting. I asked Mom for more pills, but she scolded me when I told her how many I'd taken already. 

"You need to get something in your tum-tum besides medicine," she said, and she brought me some juice and soda crackers. Yes, she actually said "tum-tum" to her 19 year old daughter. It got worse, too. She put a light on in the bathroom in case I couldn't find it in the dark and needed to "go potty."

The food and drink didn't help. My "tum-tum" hurt more and started gurgling loudly. Pretty soon I did have to "go potty." By this time I was in such bad shape I knew walking was going to be a bother. I got my feet out from under the covers and sat on the side of the bed. I thought I'd sit like that for a moment and adjust to the light. 

When I tried to turn on the lamp I couldn't find the knob. When I finally did, I couldn't seem to grip it to turn. I felt so awful that even my sense of touch was off. I ended up knocking the lamp off the night stand. Some sounds and sensations down in my guts told me I needed to be on a toilet soon, light or no light. 

That was when I heard Mom and Jeremy talking downstairs. He wanted to bring me my present. Mom said I was feeling good enough for a brief visit.

I didn't want to go to the bathroom while he was around to hear and smell me. I'd have to keep my cheeks clenched for the time being. At that moment I was more concerned about the lamp.

I slowly and carefully walked over to the light switch. The pain and the blinding blurriness were back. With my squinting strained eyes I was eventually able to see the lamp. It didn't look broken, but it was hard to tell from the opposite side of the room. 

I started walking, but got all dizzy and tippy. I lurched forward to try to grab onto the bed to keep from falling. I couldn't see what was happening but I knew my hands were feeling the soft mattress and not the hard tile floor.

I felt something else. Bumpy lumps in my underwear. Some oatmeal-textured nastiness was burbling out between my buttocks. It stopped after a moment and it didn't seem like very much made it out. My heart was racing. More could come out any second. I needed to plop that rump on a toilet before I exploded.

I could barely stand up much less walk, but I had to do something. I slowly took my hands off the bed and tried to balance without standing all the way up. I shifted my right foot and turned my body 90 degrees.

Something went wrong. The next thing I knew I was in a squatting position. My bowels took that as the signal that they should push everything out.

As luck would have it, that was the moment Jeremy walked in.

With a quivering voice and tears welling in my eyes I said, "I had an accident." He didn't need me to tell him that. He could see the damp brown stain on my pink PJs, the big lumpy bulge sagging between my legs, and the little muddy puddle on the white carpet under me.

He stammered something about our anniversary and how he hoped I felt better soon, then he left. I immediately started weeping. I don't blame him for leaving me along to wallow in my mess. I must've looked pathetic to him.

I shamefully walked down the hall, around the corner, and into the bathroom. Mom was by my side before I knew it. She helped me get out of my messy clothes and into the tub. In tears I protested that I could clean myself up. I did but she stayed in the room with me.

I didn't feel like a _complete_ failure until Mom lectured me about the mess I made in the medicine cabinet. It seems I'd been careless as well as clumsy. Mom has trouble getting her Ex-Lax tablets out of the paper strip, so she cuts them all out ahead of time and keeps them in an empty Advil bottle with "Ex-Lax" written on it in magic marker. Those were the pills I took.


End file.
